


RS-17

by AutumnFae



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Kid Fic, M/M, Slow Build, clone OC - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 22:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3954742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnFae/pseuds/AutumnFae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The man who’s just begun to call himself James, (not Bucky, not yet, he’s not ready to face that yet) tries to find and piece together what's left of himself in the chard remains of every Hydra base he burns to the ground in his vengeance. That is until he discovers a cloning lab in the cold depths of Hydra, where he finds a somewhat familiar sickly infant, harshly branded RS-17.</p>
            </blockquote>





	RS-17

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter!! Well, technically a prelude...

It was June 6th 2014 in upstate Pennsylvania that the winter soldier had first called himself James

It had been a considerably nice day, still rather cool but just warm enough that the soldier did still attract an odd look or two for the jacket and gloves he wore to hide his arm. He had kept his face neutral, not wanting the anxiety of being out in the open with minimal weapons show and attract more looks. 

He had to do this. It was his mission. 

He told himself this again and again to assure himself as he approached his destination.

Granted, this technically couldn’t even qualify as a mission, at least not in the same sense as his missions of the past had, before HYDRA had-… before he’d gone rogue. What’s more that this mission would break a multitude of the rules his former handlers had burned into him, as well as hold possibly run the risk of jeopardizing all the work he’s put into covering his tracks. 

But then again that just might be his frayed nerves talking, as the likelihood of that happening here, as long as he keeps his head down and not leave any potentially lasting impressions, are little to none. 

Upon reaching to door to the small quiet building he had chosen to enact his ‘mission’ he noticed a tired woman trying to get the door open while she juggled both a tray of coffee and a box of pastries in her arms. The soldiers fingers twitched before he found himself stepping up and opening the door for her. She looked up and smiled at him in thanks before hurrying off, likely back to work to awaiting hungry coworkers. He watched her go silently for a moment before glancing back at the door he still held. 

He didn’t… he didn’t need to have done that. But he did. Not entirely unlike when he gave money the beggar he passed on his way here or when he fed that stray cat that lived in the alley outside where he was staying a few nights ago. These little meaningless things he finds himself doing sometimes, not because he’s told or ordered to, but because he just wants to, because it be wrong not to and-

“Sir? Is something wrong?”

He snapped out of his thoughts and glanced at the source of the voice, a young plump women who was standing inside by the door with a broom in hand, giving him a concerned look. 

He quickly debated just leaving now since he’s already endangered his plan by not entering smoothly and unnoticed and instead just stood there staring at the door like a complete-

“I’m fine.” He murmured gruffly as he entered the cafe. He steered clear of the employee to avoid anymore looks and went toward the counter to act like he was looking at the menu, when really his eyes were searching the room out of habit for any cameras, escape routes, or potential enemies. 

He found found one dated and likely malfunctioning security camera, 3 possible exist (8 if he used force or didn’t mind breaking windows) and 10 civilians: three are employees(the one by the closest exit, two more behind the counter) three were the customers waiting in line (all with their backs to him, two distracted by their mobile phones) and four were the rest of the customers sitting down at the tables (A balding man in the back corner working on a laptop, and two young women sharing a booth, both distracted by the tenth civilian: an infant sitting in one of the woman's arms, and currently gnawing on the trunk of the small blue elephant she held.) 

His glance as the baby lasted a moment longer then the rest, it’s pudgy cheeks pulled back in a gummy grin as the woman across the table hid her face in her hands before pulling them back in a dramatic way, causing the infant to let out an excited squeal.

‘Peek-a-boo’ he vaguely recalled, as well as with a distant giggling in the very back of his mind, a girls laugh? Or maybe- No, no. Not here, not right now.

He quickly pulled his eyes away from the scene, taking in a deep breath through his nose before balling his hands in his jacket pockets and stepping into the line. 

He has a mission.

Of the three people ahead of him two looked to be ordering together judge from the way the woman tucked herself under the man's arm, making his turn all the more sooner. He forced himself to finally look at the menu above the counter, but could hardly take in any of it, as, not only did he not know what some of the items listed were, but the man in front had already finished placing his order and now the couple was placing theirs and then it’ll be his turn and-

Focus he told himself, breathing deeply again, just pick something, doesn’t matter what.

When he looked up again he noticed the couple were already moving aside, leaving him to be next in line.

“What can I get you sir?” the man asked with a professional fake smile.

“um…” He found himself glancing back up at the menu before back at the employee, “Coffee… black. Uh, a m-medium to go.” he stuttered out. Just kept it simple, good.

The man, ‘Marco’ his name tag read, nodded as he grabbed a medium cup from behind the counter and checked of a little box on it with his sharpie before turning back to look at him expectantly. 

“Your name?” he asked, shaking the cup lightly toward where the pink haired woman behind the counter was making the drinks, a line of full cups above her with names written down the sides on them, one of the two woman was picking their orders up and frowns at the name ‘Katelyn’ written on hers.

“uh...” he blanks for just a moment “...James.” he finally says, the name feeling unfamiliar on his tongue despite having it ringing around his skull constantly for nearly two months now.

The man nodded as he scribbled it onto the cup. “Alright, that’ll be 2.20, would you like a receipt?”

‘James’ steps out of the line after paying, eyes on his cup as the women filled the orders. It wasn’t long until he heard the name called out, the barista not even looking up as she placed his coffee in line with the others. 

When he picks it up he shortly debates the idea sitting down to drink it but the sudden shrill cry of the toddler sitting in her mother's lap makes his decision for him.

And he hates that sound, he doesn’t know why but he hates it and he wants it to stop. He can just feel his stomach twisting with every wail and his head is starting to ache and the cries just seemed to be getting louder and- 

He needs to leave.

He immediately heads for the exit but spares it a quick glance, as he would have no choice but to pass the infant to get to the main door, and sees the mother gently bouncing the babe in an attempts to calm her child. Her friend sitting across from her (Kaitlyn, her cup read) was holding up her keys and jingling them in attempt to fascinate the baby but still she just kept crying. Kept making that awful noise.

And apparently only James had noticed that the elephant the babe had been teething on earlier had fallen from her grasp and was now on the floor.

He should keep on walking, not get involved, they should notice the toys absents any second now, and he rather not risk drawing attention to himself. Not risk getting any closer to the infant that’s causing him to suddenly feel so sick.

Then baby let out another heart broken wail.

He halted at the sound and let out a strained sigh before glancing back at the little ones tear stained face. He wanted the noise to stop so badly but just leaving the area wouldn’t really make it stop, now would it?

“Uh, excuse me...” he began, wincing slightly at the roughness of his own voice. The women looked up at him and he noticed the mother instinctively holding her daughter a little closer the moment she lays eyes on him. He’s not surprised, she’s smart to do so.

“Her toy fell.” he told them, pointing rigidly to where the toy had fallen while still holding his coffee, his left hand staying securely in his jacket pocket.

“Oh!” the mother exclaimed, face going from guarded to relieved in an instant. She snatches it up once she finds it and smiles as she thanks James. The horrible cries come to an immediate stop once the baby gets her little hands on her precious elephant again, and then just as quickly she sticks its trunk back in her mouth.

The women laugh at the action and James too can’t help the small quirk he feels on his lips.

And just like that the dreadful feeling he had is gone, but that faint haunting giggling he’d heard before is back, it’s louder, and is so, so heartachingly familiar.

He gives a hurried nod when the mother and her friend thank him again before finally reaching the door and exciting the cafe, escaping into the fresh air. He breathes deeply as he switches the coffee to his other hand, the heat of the cup having made his already sweating palm worse. He rubs at his eyes and face for a moment in an attempt to clear his head, before turning on his heel and briskly walking down the sidewalk. Needing to just get away from this place.

But it’d gone well right? He had the coffee as proof, he even interacted with the civilians without issue. But, but…

The baby, she was... he hadn’t- James hadn’t-!

James winced away from the alley where the beggar he’d given money to before was now sleeping. Ducking his chin to his chest to keep from being recognized on the chance the man wakes up and tries to talk to him. 

He stuck his free hand into his pocket to yank out the keys to the pickup truck he’d stolen a week back. He might ditch it at some scrap yard or leave it for the impound lot in another week or so. He knows not to keep any vehicle for too long, so not to be recognizable. 

His hand was already shaking when he finally reached the truck door but not enough to keep him from unlocking it thankfully. As soon as James gets it open he jumps into the driver's seat and slams it back shut, locking himself in and the rest of the world out, at least for the time being.

He sits for a moment breathing deeply but trying to keep the breaths steady, not wanting to black out again like in the first few times he got like this. The keys slipped from his grasp down onto the car floor but his metal hand still held the coffee securely. He kept his eyes closed until the lightness in his head was gone and the tightness in his chest had subsided. 

He didn’t know how long it took, but it was long enough that his coffee had cooled to a much more drinkable temperature.

He gave a weary sigh as he slouched deeper into the seat. He hated it when that happened, those sudden feelings of being trapped, as if he was back in that fucking chair, as though if he didn’t run right then he would suffocate on thin air. 

He glares in frustration at the steering wheel. From what he can now recall he’s taken down over 15 armed men with nothing more than a broken knife and a single functioning arm and yet when he was faces against a wailing toddler it was like all his strength and training has been sucked out of him and he just overwhelmed with the urge to escape and put as much distance between himself and the babe as possible.

And yet he stayed… and, and that giggling, it-

He shook his head. No, no more. That’s enough. He doesn’t know what made him react that way but it can’t be pleasant, and he can’t deal with that right now! Not when, not when-

He brings the bitter scented beverage to his lips and takes his first drink of his prize. It’s too strong for his tastes he finds, but it’s a welcomed distraction. The warmth and bitterness of it soothing the worst of his nerves just enough for him to pull his notebook and map back out of the glove box and look over the coordinates again.

His eyes quickly run over the roads, freeways, and exist he’ll need to take before he reaches his destination. His eyes dart to his watch, 10:48am, meaning by the time he arrives he’ll have at least eight hours to stakeout the area. 

He takes another long swig of his coffee before grabbing the keys off the car floor and jamming them into the ignition. He still had another 70 miles before he reached the state park where the next HYDRA base on his list was hiding under.


End file.
